Ch.73

19■■. Date Unknown. AM 11:24

Vatican City, Rome, Italy

[Redacted] Cathedral [Redacted] [Redacted]

“It’s permanent damage.”

Father Michael crossed himself after hearing the doctor’s words. Everyone in the room did the same.

“Will he be completely blind?”

The doctor shook his head.

“No, not exactly. He just can’t distinguish colors. Only brightness and saturation. Everything will appear in black and white to the child’s eyes. However, he claims he can properly see blood, and Father Michael and the nuns who follow him.”

Cardinal Benedict, the administrator of [Redacted] Cathedral, nodded.

“So to summarize, he can properly see blood and beast-like beings that resemble humans. Is that correct?”

“Ahem, hmm!”

Father Michael uncomfortably shifted his collar from side to side.

“This isn’t the time for formalities, Michael. We have much to do. Our decision will help that child make his own choice. Whether to follow the path of beasts or the path of humans. Good heavens. Lord. That child is too young and fragile. And also…”

“Sensitive,” Sister Beatrix, standing by the doorway, nodded.

“Sensitive enough to startle even beasts. And so perceptive! When I asked if he had left in a hurry this morning, I thought he might faint. When I asked how he knew, he said he couldn’t smell cheese. That child even recognized what I eat for breakfast every morning by smell! Even wolves would struggle with that!”

“Even if he leaves, he couldn’t become a tyrant. Not with that level of sensitivity.”

Brother Gaspar crossed his arms, looking perplexed.

“So, what does he want to do?”

Everyone in the room looked at Michael.

* * * * *

Sitting on the bed, Abassina stared out the window. Her eyes had healed, but not their color. Now her eyes were silver-gray. Her hair was silver as well. The blood clan ritual had been incomplete. She had received it without proper training.

The legacy of her father, mother, sister, brothers, and ancestors.

“Yes. You are now the last blood clan leader.”

Michael spoke from behind Abassina.

“There used to be many beings like you. Uh… beings like me are still more common. Though our numbers have dwindled. Well, you see…”

“I can eat food just fine.”

The priest immediately closed his mouth. The girl continued without hesitation.

“I eat ice cream well too. I know how to eat well-cooked meat, and I don’t avoid tomatoes. I eat eggs well too.”

Michael didn’t know how to respond. The girl always pushed herself during mealtimes. Her eyes were different from ordinary people’s. Meat in black and white? It would have taste, of course, but who would find meat that looked like newspaper appetizing?

“That’s… uh… good.”

“You still see me as a monster, don’t you?”

“That’s something you have to choose for yourself.”

Abassina tilted her head at Michael’s answer.

“Let me share some good news—your body has fully recovered. At least, based on everything we know about blood clan leaders, you’re fine. But how you act from now on is up to you.”

“What does that mean?”

Abassina hung her head.

“My family is gone, and I have no domain. I can’t live like my ancestors, like my father.”

“True. One of your infinite possibilities has been eliminated.”

Abassina looked at Michael with eyes full of doubt.

“You can see it by looking at me. And by looking at Sister Beatrix. What, are we supposed to live going ‘awoo’ and ‘woof woof’ just because we’re werewolves? Of course not.”

“You’re a liar. Not living according to what you are.”

Abassina turned her head back toward the window.

“Ahem. Abassina. Beasts have no choices. But humans do. You still have choices. That’s why you’re human.”

“You sound like my father.”

“You loved your father, didn’t you?”

Abassina’s shoulders stiffened.

“And your mother too. Your sister and brothers as well. Abassina, I know. Once, vampires and werewolves hated each other, biting and fighting one another. So I understand.”

Michael cleared his throat. Beatrix would be better at this.

“Abassina. I know your family isn’t completely gone.”

“Father, please don’t offer empty consolation…”

“You remember, don’t you? Memories engraved in blood aren’t easily erased. They’re vivid and alive. Sometimes, the name ‘family’ can become an unbearable shackle. I too found my bloodline cursing.”

Abassina didn’t answer. Michael clenched his fist.

“But Abassina, you’re still a joy. Our joy. The other clergy and I often think when we see you. While we blame ourselves for not intervening earlier, we’re proud that we at least saved you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re here, aren’t you? That’s how children are. Even when they do nothing and just exist, they bring joy and happiness to everyone.”

Abassina continued staring out the window. Fortunately, this time she responded.

“So?”

“If you choose to live as a human, everyone will be happy. If you choose the path of beasts, no one will criticize you. Both humans and beasts here will bless you. But, Abassina.”

Michael said a prayer, asking for courage to say these words.

“I want you to be happy. You’ll be happy no matter what you do. We’ll help you.”

Abassina fidgeted with her fingers.

“Mister.”

“Yes?”

“Can nuns eat meat?”

“I’ll ask the Cardinal. He’s stronger than he looks. So stop pulling his beard.”

“Do I have to study a lot?”

“Well, you need to know Latin first. Ancient Greek. English. Arabic would be good. Theology and…”

“I don’t want to.”

“Want some candy?”

“A big one that fills my mouth. Can nuns get married?”

“Nuns can’t marry. At least, human nuns can’t.”

“Then I don’t want to be one.”

Michael chuckled.

“Well, I’m not sure if werewolf or vampire nuns follow the same rules. I don’t recall seeing anything about that in canon law. And don’t be too quick to decide. You might meet someone nice.”

“There will only be beasts. Well, humans are beasts and beasts are beasts.”

“What’s wrong with being a beast? Cats are beasts too, but they’re cute.”

“You can’t marry a cat.”

“Want some ice cream?”

“Half chocolate, half vanilla.”

“Let’s go.”

* * * * *

1929. Date Unknown. PM 5:24

Vatican City, Rome, Italy

[Redacted] Cathedral [Redacted] [Redacted]

“Pollard Island? I’ve never heard of it.”

The girl had now become a woman.

She could handle firearms skillfully, assembling and disassembling them with ease. Running and swimming came naturally to her, and her knife-throwing was always on target.

One concern was that when riding motorcycles, she couldn’t contain her excitement and often caused accidents. Still, they said her last stunt was quite impressive.

Setting aside countless thoughts, the Cardinal handed her a document.

“It’s in America. East Coast, Massachusetts. Evil things are happening there. Tragic events. His Holiness has decided we must intervene.”

“Really? That’s unexpected.”

Unable to contain himself any longer, the Cardinal spoke up.

“Abassina, I told you that’s not how you wear a nun’s habit. Your legs are completely visible.”

As usual, Abassina pretended not to hear and examined the document.

“Prohibition? You can’t drink alcohol? I’m not going.”

Something welled up in the Cardinal’s chest, but he held it back. No one was more suitable than Abassina.

“The law is a bit strange, but that doesn’t mean people don’t drink. Italian and Irish mafias are smuggling alcohol, and they’re diverting church wine, causing quite a problem…”

Abassina erupted in anger.

“Those bastards! I’ll go. How dare they steal communion wine when there’s plenty of other things to steal!”

Just as Michael had said. Mention alcohol and she’d go immediately. The Cardinal was relieved.

“You’re not going alone.”

“What? Who am I going with?”

“Father Michael. Sister Maria. Sister Beatrix. Sister Sophia…”

After hearing the growing list, Abassina was shocked.

“That’s almost the entire Black and White Rose Order!”

“And you’re the Mother Superior.”

“There’s no such thing!”

The Cardinal imitated Abassina’s manner of speaking.

“You’re strong, aren’t you? Don’t you know that with great power comes great responsibility? You even designed the order’s emblem. So naturally, you should go.”

It was a failure. Abassina’s face turned pale. The Cardinal smiled awkwardly and handed her the remaining documents.

“Just go and do something about the alcohol first. You’ll be assigned to the southern church in Pollard. Protect the poor and guard the innocent. America is a rough place.”

* * * * *

1929. Date Unknown. AM 00:12

Giovanni Savio’s Bedroom

Giovanni Savio opened his eyes. Incredibly, there was a knife at his throat.

“Hello, Giovanni?”

And standing before him, surprisingly, was a nun. She must be a nun since she was wearing a habit. Giovanni rubbed his eyes. His right thumb ached.

“What is this?”

“Bark.”

“Woof.”

The nun smiled. Giovanni couldn’t believe his own mouth. What did I just do?

“You’re now ‘bound’ to me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Bark.”

“Woof.”

Giovanni’s face turned blue. The nun waved her knife.

“Exactly what I said. You’re bound to me. When I tell you to bark, you bark, and if I tell you to die, you’ll kill yourself. Want to bark once more? No? Fine. Wait, you’re quite the villain, aren’t you?”

“What’s your purpose?”

Giovanni met the nun’s silver-gray eyes.

“First, make a truce with red-headed O’Malley. Just so you know, O’Malley is currently trying to lick his elbow with his tongue. His forearm is so thick it’s not working well, but I can show you that pathetic sight if you want. Second, stop dealing in communion wine in your business. I won’t let it slide. If you refuse, you’ll spend the rest of your life sucking your toes. Third, it’s been a while since you’ve been to church, hasn’t it?”

“So what if it has?”

“Come every weekend and buy candy for the children. You make plenty of money, so do some good deeds. Your friend O’Malley even helps Irish kids find jobs.”

“Who are you exactly?”

“Me? A church nun. Oh, and I’m going to open a communion wine bar. It will be neutral territory, so everyone needs to get along inside. You find the location, and when the plan is set, send a letter to the church. Bark.”

“Woof.”

Clang. The knife fell.

Giovanni rubbed his eyes. The nun transformed into mist and disappeared through the open window.

It’s a dream, he thought. This must be a bad dream.

But when morning came, there was a blood-stained knife beside his bed, and the wound on his finger was very real.

Side Story – Abassina, The Last Blood Clan Leader (Final)

Bonus>

Interlude – Ruins.

A lady and her attendant. The coachman was delighted to have guests after so long. They seemed wealthy enough that they wouldn’t run off without paying. But when they mentioned their destination, his attitude changed dramatically.

“I won’t go there.”

The attendant took out a gold coin from his pocket. The coachman stared at the shining coin with his mouth open, then caught the lady’s gaze and came to his senses.

“That place is cursed! There are still rotting corpses everywhere. Officials have blocked off many roads!”

The attendant produced another gold coin along with an order and a certificate. Having occasionally transported foreign guests, the coachman recognized these documents.

In simple terms, they meant, “Do whatever this noble tells you to do.”

“Do you really have to go there?”

The attendant clutched two gold coins along with the order and certificate. The coachman waved his arms.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! My, you’re impatient. Are all English people like this?”

With a click of his tongue, the coachman set the horses in motion. While the silent, monocled male attendant seemed ordinary enough, the lady was somewhat peculiar. Her appearance made it impossible to tell whether she was young or old.

The coachman pondered why. Was it her taut skin? But her hair was white? She had quite a glamorous figure, but somehow seemed distant from youth? Was it because of her large posterior?

Unconsciously glancing at the passenger seat, the coachman realized one thing.

Her pupils never changed. She blinked her eyelids indifferently, but her pupils remained fixed. Like a dead person’s.

What a strange day, the coachman thought, pushing aside his idle thoughts.

Instead, thinking only of the gold coins, he spurred the horses on. Better to finish unsettling business quickly.

* * * * *

The coachman left them at the village entrance. The lady and her attendant walked through the destroyed count’s domain. Flies swarmed and a foul odor emanated from rotting flesh, but they paid no mind.

Eventually, they reached the fortress in question.

“The claim that it was completely destroyed seems exaggerated.”

The attendant noted with the skill of a British intelligence expert.

“It’s still maintaining its form reasonably well, but the balance is already off. It won’t last long. I doubt it will survive this winter. However, a brief investigation shouldn’t be a problem.”

The lady nodded and climbed the stairs. Her pupils remained unchanged. Wearing a red coat with white leather riding pants and long boots, she examined the ruined castle without hesitation.

“Magnet.”

The attendant took out a three-section staff from his luggage and extended it. He attached a round magnetic detector to the end. They were looking for a very specific blade. When they reached almost the top floor,

With a clatter, parts stuck to it. Before the attendant could touch it, the lady stopped him. She closely examined the clockwork parts attached to the magnet.

“Primitive. Crude. Disposable.”

“They all look fine to me.”

“Not precise. No better than a brute’s knife work.”

The attendant bowed his head and swept the area with the magnetic detector. Meanwhile, the lady walked along the destroyed corridor. The Vatican’s dogs had faithfully carried out their mission. But she was looking for something else.

Traces of oil.

Sure enough, in the middle of a large, ornate room, there was a long, dark trail of oil on the floor. It led to a secret passage in the wall. The lady examined its traces meticulously.

The achievements of Oxford and Cambridge were remarkable. The technology to implant clockwork in human bodies. But it was too dangerous to be revealed to the public yet.

It was technology to be used solely for the homeland.

And the lady was a chosen figure, one of the most perfect products. To her eyes, the imitation before her was utterly disgusting.

A traitor to the homeland. There had been intelligence that the Moriarty family’s engineer, who would sell anything for money, had contacted a Dutch merchant.

Now both Moriarty and the merchant named Van Helsing had disappeared. It was unclear whether he was dead or alive, but the lady was pleased. Here was plenty of evidence that they had been alive.

This design was Moriarty’s. Among the products he sold, it was the most trashy kind, but he seemed to have performed quite a meticulous procedure on whoever escaped through the secret stairs.

In case his heart stopped, a cogwheel auxiliary heart would activate to keep him alive. Of course, he would have to pay a severe price.

‘The Circus’ would find them.

The elegant lady looked out the count’s window with pleasure. The sound of the clockwork embedded in the center of her chest could be heard.

A woman who had given her heart for her country goes to catch a traitor who sold out his country for pocket change.

In the name of Clarice Holmes.